In My Time of Need
by Unabashed Dreams
Summary: I asked him to do this. Begged him. But now that he is, I just can't be by myself to bear it alone. *ONE SHOT*


_**AN:** "He seems so normal. Like any other little boy. And so polite. Not that I was expecting anything else. I mean … never mind." - Leliana_

_While playing DA: Inquisition (again), and talking to Leliana about Morrigan, it occurred to me that she knows the truth about Kieran (not sure how I missed that before). Which also means that she knows all about the Dark Ritual from Origins… something that was supposed to be a secret between my Warden, Alistair (who I had romanced), and Morrigan. But then I started to think, it makes sense that she knows. My warden would have needed to go somewhere while Alistair and Morrigan were getting all "ritual-y", and so why wouldn't she go to her best friend? This in turn got me wondering how it might have played out. Which got me writing out how I saw it in my head. _

_So I hope you like it!_

* * *

I knock on the door and wait, three sharp raps reverberating off the wood. When there is no reply, I knock again. I have barely waited when I raise my hand once more—impatience mixed with urgency filling my every pore. Before I can knock, however, the door is thrown open.

"For the love of the Maker, what are you doing?" Leliana breathes exasperatedly, wrapping a light robe around herself. The glow of the candles behind her, and the dimmed torches in the hall, give enough light that I can see that I have woken her. But I didn't know where else to go—I trust none of my other companions the way I trust her. But now that I'm here, I don't know what to say. I just stand there foolishly, staring at my friend.

Leliana frowns, her eyes watching me closely. "What's wrong?" she asks worriedly, looking up and down the hall. "What's happened?"

"I—" I falter, not knowing how to explain it. How could I possibly explain what was happening right now? What was going on in my room at this very moment. That the man I love more than life itself, was with Morrigan. Just thinking about it was torturous. I made to open my mouth again, but only a strangled sob came out.

Leliana had me in her arms before I knew what was happening. "Come in," she says, her accented voice soft and ripe concern. She doesn't leave room for argument as she shoves me through the door, closing it softly behind us. Once inside, I don't move as Leliana locks the door. I just stand there, starring around the room. It's nice, I guess, though it's hard to focus. My eyes fall to the fireplace. The fire is burning brightly, adding light to the room, and the candles on the wall were sending shadows dancing in their corners. Turning, I watch as Leliana steps out from behind me and, taking me by the hand, leads me to a small table; motioning for me to take a seat on one of the wooden chairs. I do so without hesitation. I feel exhausted. "What has happened?" Leliana asks again, taking the seat next to me.

"I didn't know where to go." My voice cracks and is barely above a whisper, but I know she heard me. Leliana's brow furrows.

"I don't understand—where's Alistair?"

The sound of his name causes my body to jerk involuntarily with pain—like a scalding branding iron being held to my heart, and I'm forced to mash my lips together to keep from crying out. This was my idea, after all. I had talked him into it. Leliana is watching me carefully now, and I could tell from looking at her that she could see my internal struggle.

"Did you have a fight?" She asks, frowning.

Shaking my head, I try to smile but I'm sure it looks as fake as it feels. "No. We're not fighting."

"Then . . ." Leliana looks back at the door, as though expecting him to walk in at any minute. "Where is he?"

Taking a breath, I can feel the torment building inside me; like sharpened daggers ripping me apart from the inside, out. I know it's supposed to be a secret. And I know Alistair would definitely not want anyone else knowing. But he wasn't here. He wasn't dealing with the idea of him and her—the visions of— "He's with Morrigan," I blurt out in a harsh whisper, tears escaping my eyes and cascading down my cheeks.

"What?" Leliana was dumbfounded now, staring at me. "What do you mean—" And then her eyes widened with shock as she drew her shoulders back, her lips popping open. "Oh."

The look on her face was enough to undo me, and I dropped my head in my hands to hide the shame and guilt and agony I feel.

"You're kidding me," she breathes, and I shake my head. I didn't want to think about it. But how could I not? Leliana says nothing for some time, and then: "Who does he think he is? Tonight of all nights?" But it wasn't until Leliana slaps the table hard, startling me, that I look up to see that my friend has already moved across the room.

"What are you doing?" I choke out.

"And Morrigan!" She strings her bow across her back as she rounds on me. "Well, she will deserve what's coming to her as well!"

Realizing what she means to do, I cry out. "Leliana—no!" Scrambling to my feet, I run after her, grabbing her arm before she can reach the door.

"What do you mean, 'no'? They cannot get away with this!" The anger in Leliana's voice is palpable, and her body is rigid. She is just trying to be a good friend, I tell myself. One who will not stand for me getting hurt. But she doesn't understand the truth of it—she shouldn't even know as much as she does. The guilt hits me like a stampede of horses for having brought her into this at all. I should have just stayed somewhere by myself. This, all this, was supposed to be a secret—something no one would ever learn. But I _have_ brought her into this; the moment I selfishly knocked on her door. She deserves the truth.

"I . . ." Lowering my hand from Leliana's arm, I try to figure out the best way to word it. But who am I kidding? There are no good ways to word it. "I asked them to." The words come out in a rush, and I immediately drop my eyes to hide the shame I know they're showing. I can hear the sharp intake of breath in front of me, but still cannot bring myself to look at her.

"You . . . asked them to bed one another?" Leliana says slowly—her words like a sword digging painfully into my heart. "And Alistair agreed?! They hate each other! Why would you—?"

"I had to!" I cry out, cutting her off; the excruciating truth of it pouring out of my mouth like a waterfall. "I had to because it was the only way to protect him—to protect both of us!"

"What are you on about?" Stepping forward, Leliana takes my hands into hers and looks desperately at me. I can see that she is trying so hard to listen. To understand. "Please, tell me what is going on. Why would you need protecting?"

My lips tremble as I look down at our joined hands. How could I help her to understand? She wasn't a Grey Warden, nor was she a mage with knowledge of old magic. She was just Leliana. My best friend. I knew I had to try to explain it to her. Shaking my head, I meet her eyes. "Only a Grey Warden can kill the Archdemon," I begin slowly as Leliana nods and gives a reassuring squeeze. "But . . . but whoever the Grey Warden is that kills it . . . they die too."

"What?!" Leliana drops her hands and takes a step back. "That must be some kind of joke. That is surely not possible." Her head is shaking now, the disbelief strong in her eyes. "Whoever told you that must have been lying—"

"He wasn't." I say miserably. No matter how much I wish he was. . . he wasn't. Riordin wouldn't lie to us. Not about that. Turning, I rake my fingers through my hair as I walk back to the table and sit down. "It's true—as much as I don't want it to be. And I'm pretty sure I'm not even supposed to tell you any of this. In fact, Alistair and I only just learned." I wince at his name, my heart breaking. My idea, I remind myself.

Leliana takes a step towards me, her eyes narrowing. "So . . . Alistair learns that he or the love of his life might die tomorrow . . . so he runs to Morrigan? Now I'm really going to shove an arrow up his—"

"No." I cut her off, shaking my head miserably. "Morrigan came to me. She knew what the Wardens were required to do, and she knew an old spell that would save us—keep us alive. I cannot fault Alistair for this."

"Wait . . . she knew? She knew and never thought to mention anything?" Leliana asks, unable to hide her disgust. "That . . . that . . . _bitch!"_ She begins pacing. "And so she just happened to know a spell that would save you both? Convenient, would you not say?"

"Planned is more like it," I sigh. I've gone this far. Might as well tell her everything now. "Flemeth's plan—from the very beginning."

Leliana stops and looks at me, the anger leaving her quickly and concern rapidly replacing it. "If what you are saying is true . . . you remember the story I told you about Flemeth, right? About her many lovers?" I give a wisp of a smile. How long ago that story seemed. Even with the Blight looming over us, it had still seemed so much simpler then. So of course I remembered it. I give a sharp nod, and Leliana continues. "Then is it possible that she has taught her daughter her ways?"

I nod again. "Yes, but I trust Morrigan. I doubt she would do anything like _that_. I think this is more about the baby—" I stop, my eyes going wide and my heart beginning to pace quickly. I had not meant to reveal that much, and by the look on Leliana's face, she had not expected it either.

"Baby? There is to be a baby?!"

"Leliana . . ."

"Are you pregnant . . .? No . . . not you . . . but . . . wait—are you telling me that Morrigan wanted Alistair to _impregnate_ her?" She cries out in alarm.

"Maker's breath, think you could say it louder? Not sure if the scullery maid heard you."

"Sorry," Leliana says sheepishly, lowering her voice. Removing her bow and setting it aside, she comes to reclaim her seat from before. "But . . . how? How did you get Alistair to agree to this? And how are _you _okay with it?"

"Because he could die!" I say breathlessly, almost pleading for her to understand. "I will do anything to keep that from happening—whether I like it or not. And how I got him to agree to it is . . ." I shake my head, remembering the argument . . . the pleading . . . the begging him before he relented. And then there was the look on his face upon learning the truth of what would come from this whole damned thing. I had nearly backed out when he gave me that look. He hadn't wanted to do this ritual. But he agreed anyway. For me.

I look at Leliana, unable to tell her any of this. Some things should remain private. Realizing I wasn't going to continue, she sighs heavily. "Okay, then—why him? Why not someone else?"

"It had to be a Grey Warden. And it had to be someone who has not been tainted very long. Something to do with the spell and capturing the old God inside her . . . or something like that."

"Old God?" Leliana's eyes go wide now, her hand flying to her mouth. "Are you saying that the baby . . . that it will be an Old God? By the grace of Andraste, what have you done?"

"The only thing I could, Leliana." I say both wretchedly and defensively. The tears spill over once more, falling silently down the previously worn tracks on my cheek. "Please understand that I cannot lose him. No matter how much it hurts . . . how wrong it might be . . . or how selfish . . . _I can't lose him._ I just . . . I can't. And I would gladly give my life for him, but I know he will try to stop me." My breath hitches and I wrap my arms around myself. How long has it been now, I wonder. How long have they—is that a question I really want to know the answer to?

Leliana watches me, taking a slow breath. "This was . . . the only way to ensure the safety of you both? There was no other way? And what of the child? Will it even be a child?"

I meet her eyes solemnly. "If you have another way—" it would already be too late. I sigh. "No. this was the only way. As for the child, I don't know. She plans to raise him—it . . . whatever it ends up being—away from everyone. She doesn't want Alistair to be it's father in the way that a father should be . . . she just needs his—um—" I jerk my head roughly, blanching as I try to rid myself from the thought. I feel sick.

"I think I get it," Leliana says mercifully, holding up her hand. A second later, she reaches for me, pulling me into a tight hug. "You poor dear," her voice is muffled. "I can't begin to understand how hard this must be. To love someone enough to ask them to do something you detest to save you both. Love truly has no limits. And I suppose, when you are both alive in the end . . . that will get people talking."

Rearing back, I look at my friend with alarm. "You can't tell anyone, Leliana. I shouldn't have even told you, but I—I knew I could trust you. Please. No one can ever know what is happening. Not even Alistair can know that you—"

"Shhh," Leliana croons, smoothing down my hair. "Of course I will not say anything," Leliana smiles sadly. "You are my closest and most trusted friend. I would not dare ruin that by betraying you."

"Thank you—"

A knock cuts me off and we both turn to the door. Throwing me a baffled look, Leliana rises to her feet and crosses the room quickly. Unlocking the door, she pulls it open. My heart is pounding hard, my pulse racing. From where I am sitting, I can't see who it is, but I don't have to. I can sense him. I can hear him.

"Hi, Leliana . . . is—"

"The love of your life here?" Leliana cuts him off, curtly. "Of course!" Turning, she looks at me. I can see the tenseness in the way she holds her body, but she has a relaxed smile on her face. "We were just having a last moment together before tomorrow—you know, girl talk. Thank you for letting me share her, Alistair. I know how much you must wish to be with her tonight, but understanding that she wanted to spend time with me as well was very generous of you."

He nods and gives a polite smile as he steps through the doorway, my breath catching as I look up at him. His hair is wet, and from here I can smell the soap that he must have used to scrub himself with. So that's what had been taking so long. His clothes are different too—simple brown linen pants and a white shirt that he failed to close over his chest. I look away quickly when our eyes meet, the shame and guilt at what I know I asked him to do, coupled with the undeniable torture of him actually doing it, flaring up within the pit of my stomach. I wasn't mad at him. I couldn't be. But that didn't stop it from hurting.

It isn't until he is kneeling in front of me that I am forced to look at him—forced to see the shame and regret in his own eyes. Reaching forward, he takes my hand. "I'm glad you got to spend a few last moments with her." Though he is looking at me, he is speaking to Leliana. "You're her best friend, you know?"

"I am pleased to hear it." Leliana says quietly. "She is mine, as well. But I am sure you did not come here to talk with me. You two should go—share what time you have left with each other."

His mouth pulls into a frown as he looks at me, his eyes burning intensely. "Will you come with me?" His voice is barely above a whisper. I can see that he is afraid I will say no—and a part of me wants to. It's not his fault though, I keep telling myself. What happened, _had _to happen. And he only did it because I asked him to. Because he loves me. and because he wanted to save me as much as I wanted to save him. I nod, giving a weak smile, and allow him to help me to my feet.

As he leads me toward the door, I stop and pull Leliana into a hug. "Thank you," I whisper. "For . . . everything."

"Of course," she says softly, pulling away and taking my hands. "It will all work out."

I smile and nod just as Alistair slips his hand into mine. The warmth of his hand is comforting, much more than I thought it would be so soon after—I shake the thought away. I look back at him, his eyes, his mouth, his nose, the way he is watching me . . . he is still my Alistair. Perhaps Leliana is right.

Stepping into the hall, the door closes slowly behind us. Too slowly. And I hear Leliana's breathless whisper just as the door shuts in place . . . hear the words she did not mean for me to hear.

"Maker, help us."


End file.
